Say goodbye to 2013, Gaby.

I have been neglecting this blog. Somewhat purposely, solely because I feel I have nothing of significance to write about. My life hasn't been that interesting. At the same time, it has. I could write about every detail of the goings-on in my life since I have last written on here, but I'm not going to.

In a little bit my brother and I will be leaving to spend New Years Eve with our friends in Grand Rapids. It's good to get a change of scenery and to welcome the new year with friends. There has been drama, oh yes, but who doesn't go through a little bit of drama? Life does what it can to overcomplicate the story of my journey (or the experience rather). I am tired and drained, stressed, over thinking, wishful, hopeful, doubtful; a grand cocktail of emotions that has left me physically taxed out.

I have cried more this year, felt more, grew more into a woman who I respect (because, really, you should respect yourself and like where you're heading in life- no matter your current situation). I have felt such a growth in me this past year than I ever have in my 23 years of living. I am being pushed down and pulled in many directions by the enemy (because of the enemy sees a chance to literally f*ck up my life), but I am grounding myself in faith because I know the love God has for me is deeper than any human bond. I am thankful for that.

I am also thankful for another lie that has been taking over me for a while. It's okay to be angry with God sometimes. I don't ever hate God, don't think that this is my meaning. But like any relationship- a person will get angry; just like how God gets angry with me, sometimes (or rather disappointed is that word I'm going for). I have moments of abandonment because I fear God isn't with me when I step on a landmine in life. I become hesitant to share with Him. But this voice inside me (and with the help of talking this through with my Pastor) says that it's okay I'm angry, "share with Me all of your pain and joys. I want to hear everything." It's a great feeling to share not just the happy occurrences but also the struggles.

I am struggling now. I am trying to remain sane and present, unfortunately, though, I feel darkness creep into my thoughts and negativity flow through my veins. I feel choked by the shittiness of everything going on as if I were choking on the cloud of smoke that's beginning to descend from the ceiling and entering my lungs. The smoke is harsh words and bad feelings, it's exhausting and I can't escape sometimes. Thankfully, I have moments of relief- breathing peacefully when I leave this place. This is as much detail I can get into right now. I cannot write specifics, but home is hard. And I'm praying for peace.

I am not going to Grand Rapids so that I may only find relief from the suffocation of my situation, but for this tiny glimpse of hope amongst people. Hope resides in all of us and sometimes, I think, we need to look to others- in the window of their lives (just like how Scrooge sees how happy people are celebrating without him, leaving him to want to celebrate with them and experience that joy), I want to experience that joy too. The love and warmth of being surrounded by others that will encourage you.

This year, has been rough of me. Taking smalls jobs here and there (some jobs that have been rewarded to me as a person, and other jobs that have wounded me severally); feeling hurt from others that are close to you; being bomped on the head by God and telling me to grow up; experiencing closure from a past pain through a dream; and, slowly, beginning to put my faith in friendships. I am opening up, I am growing. Yes, I am hurting now, but I can't help but get excited for this joy that is to come, because joy does come to us (not necessarily through relationships and jobs only, but actual joy that takes over your being). 2014 will probably be just as rough, but it will have moments of love from people, experiences, and connection- all through God. This leaves me smiling.

P.S. I see my Papa Chepe on January 21st. I'm going to El Salvador and will return home February 4th. I'm telling you, 2014 has its perks.

Friendships are still a blunder to me.

Losing my internship has spiraled me into this state of inadequacy. It has definitely brought to me reflect on certain aspects of my life. There is quite a bit going on with me, and if I'm going to be honest I do not known where to even begin. I am reluctant to spill out my guts to you all, but there is one thing I have been on the fence about in terms of sharing. I'm in a corner, though. I am being compelled to confess this to you. Perhaps it will help me explain why I am the way I am, why I behave the way I do towards certain people I meet.

Women. Yep. I want to talk about my issues with women (and no, I am not attracted to women- although, I will say when a woman is beautiful, because I believe each woman have these moments of absolute beauty). For as long as I can remember I have always had trouble building and maintaining a friendship with women. The majority of my close friends are men. My best friend is literally my 26 year old brother and then there are my "adoptive" brothers that I feel comfortable sharing with. I'm not saying I trust men easily (if that were the case, I feel like I would have had a boyfriend by now, just saying), but I am more comfortable being myself with a man than I am with a woman. Why? Well, to be honest, women are bitches.

It's true! We are. I feel like we, women, are always in competition with one another to be better than the other at whatever thing. To rule or dominate something we feel we have right to take over. We take pleasure in our triumphs. I admit it, I do compare myself to another woman. Especially when I see a woman is more well liked than I am. But do I have a right to feel jealousy towards a woman who has more girl-friends than I do? Some people, and I don't know how, are born with this invisible-luring-bubble of a personality that's just so appealing to a person. I have been attracted to people who have this smile and positive air about them. Unfortunately, it has been with these people that I just won't connect well with because I am in some different, alternate universe than they are. How this happened, I do not know, but I'm always somewhere else with these people.

I am 23 years old, right? I do not have a female best friend. I have not called someone my best friend since I was in the 8th grade. That was almost 10 years ago. It's been a decade since I have called another female my best friend. I have had some pretty close female friends after the 8th grade, but high school was a shitty time for me. I would either have friends who used me for personal gain, or to pass a class, or I'd have friendships that would fizzle out because since we didn't have to see each other anymore, what is the point in planning days to see each other. Damn. My summers in high school were incredibly dull on the female friendship part. I had my guy friends, but like I said, I've always been comfortable with guys, but I had no female friends. I couldn't relate to anyone for everything.

And man, did I try with these girls. Being myself didn't work. When I was myself, completely unaware of my flaws (being chubby and not wearing any make up or cute clothes), a girl on my first week of high school- new high school- said to me, "Move it, you stupid fat bitch." We never acknowledged each other until that day, she didn't know me. I spent four years in the same homeroom with that girl. I don't know what I did to offend her, but since that day I was always trying to adjust myself a little to their (the high school-doucheyness population) need to accept me, whatever made them comfortable with me. It didn't work. Nothing worked. I became this person I hated in high school. Seeking the approvals of others, wanting them to accept me. But I was a quack in high school. I liked dressing comfortably, being goofy and making jokes; it took me 3 years to just accept the fact that I wanted to be me, not what they would accept me as.

Like I said, it was towards the end of my high school experience was when I began to realize I was being abused by the girls in my school for either being ugly (although I thought myself as pretty until they felt it their duty to remind me of my unattractiveness), too fat (ate my feelings more and more), dating one of "their guys" (to them he was gorgeous and I did not belong in that universe), or involving myself in situations I shouldn't be a part of, I was doing everything wrong and they made damn sure to remind of it every day for four years. Bitches.

Can I just say again how shitty high school was for me? It wasn't the only time I was emotionally abused by women in my life. I've been abused by women (even girls) since I was five years old. Emotionally abused, mind you. Mentally abused. I remember in kindergarten, vividly, I had to go to a new school because a teacher didn't like me in my previous one, so I went to another one. Ah! I mean, I was five... I didn't know I was being abused until I reached my 20s, but I was.

There was this blonde pixie haircut girl named Ashley (of course that was her name). I wanted to be her friend so badly. Why? No idea why when thinking about it now, but I remember her smile and how much of a natural she was when it came to making friends. I wanted to be friends with her since I left my old friendships behind when I changed schools. Here's the shitty part: in order to be her friend, I had to do things for her. I had to pretend to be her dog whenever we'd play. I could only respond to the name "Poop" and I had to get on my hands and knees whenever she wanted to sit down, so she could put her feet on my back. Like an idiot, I did all this for her. I was her friend. I was Ashley's friend! Even then, though, I knew I wasn't being treated right. How come she never wanted to get to know me? Why didn't she ever call me "Gaby" like I introduced myself as? "Gabby" would've worked if she preferred the American nickname as most people did since, apparently, my name is difficult to pronounce. But she didn't want to be my friend. She humiliated me. She never supported me. When I would color whatever ridiculous coloring assignment we had the wrong colors because I just loved being different from everyone else and be creative with the colors, she would out me to our teacher (and that woman hated me as well, she thought I was stupid). This girl had no interest in being my friend. I was her entertainment. She got off on my humiliation.

Alright, so I was 5 when all that went down. I couldn't have known I was actually being abused by someone. And I didn't know. I didn't hate her anything. I don't hate her now. I do think she's a bit of a jerk (amongst other bad words), but I don't hate her. I wish I could say that about the other women that entered my life soon after that.

Ready for another example? I had a neighbor friend who would get me into the biggest trouble a seven year old could get into. Crossing the street without my parents there, walking away from home, basically getting my mom worried. I knew it was wrong when she proposed the idea, just like how I knew, deep down, that the way Ashley treated me was wrong, but I did it. I did all those things, disobeyed those rules my mom told me to follow so I wouldn't get hurt or into deep trouble; I broke the rules so that way my friend would continue being my friend. I craved the friendship. I was ready to prove to this friend that I wasn't a baby anymore, like she repeatedly taunted me as, that I was a big girl like her and I wasn't afraid to cross the street. I was practically begging for her to be my friend, to like me. I would've done anything.

Now what does all this have to do with me now, presently? Well, a lot of what's happened to me in my childhood and youth have carried on into the beginning of my adulthood. I see myself becoming cruel like some of the girls I've mentioned. I actually took time to look back on each single thing these girls did to me and how they've shaped the person I am today. I am capable (in fact, we are all capable) of being an asshole/bitch to someone. I have been, I continue to do so at whatever chance I get. I do this to protect myself, because I can. But I don't want to be this way. My mishaps with women have attributed to the horrible person I have transformed into. I feel a bit bad I am specifically blaming women, but so much of the hurt I remember about those younger years all lead back to an event with a female. I know I've had bad situations with some guys, but none have left me so untrusting of people than my past ordeals with my lady friends.

Another example? Dare I continue? Well. In my teen years I began to actually build friendships with girls, these girls I considered to be my sisters. I felt that I finally developed friendships that would last me a long time. But like most girls, we all got boyfriends or crushes that are worth (in our minds, at least) time to dedicate all our hours to. Boyfriends changed us in our teen years; we're hormonal, we're gushy and all sickeningly, gooeyily in love that sometimes we forget our friendships. My friends got their boyfriends, but I began to be pushed away. Shelved. These girls I would call my sisters gave me no consideration. The hours we spent talking to each other, the confessions I've made of my previous hurt, the connection and bonding we built was gone. I am telling you, for seriously, we are just horrible to one another. My sisters left me deserted. I needed them to spill my guts to. I needed their advice, their ears to listen, their hearts to open to embrace. It was gone. I didn't think that when you call someone your best friend, and truly mean it, when you call someone your sister, that they would leave you so easily. Here's the best part about this feeling of abandonment: when they're coming back to you months, years later (and some have been years) and act as if the pain you experienced was nothing. Bullshit.

This all messed with my head. This mental confusion of being someone's friend and suddenly not. For stupid things really. I mean, a connection with another human being, whether it's romantic or friendly, is just incredible and something worth holding on to. I have my friendships that I have a deep connection with, but none of them are girls. The girls I know are either people I've developed a hatred for - because they've left me, never speaking to me again for Lord knows what reason (boy or new friends); or I have females in my life that have their own friendships and there isn't any room for me in their lives because they already have their fill of friendships. I saw something in relation to that the other day. It said something about how we'll want to be friends with someone but they already have their friends. I feel like I am too late in joining the best-girl-friend-friendship dance.

I don't trust women. Plain and simple. I purposely make it difficult to allow a woman to enter my life because I think we're pretty evil and capable of committing cruel things. But aren't we all capable of doing horrible things to others? No matter the sex of the individual? I bring this all up because although I've been abused by women for the longest time, I want to acknowledge men are just as capable of doing the hurting also (and trust me, some have).

I am so hesitant to be a woman's friend because I don't want them to be friends with me for the wrong reasons. I know a few women through my brother. That isn't to say I am not grateful for some of the truly remarkable, God loving women I've met thus far, but I want these women to be my friends because I am goofy-artsy-emotional-loud-movie loving-book reading-weirdo Gaby Rivas. Not because I am my brother's sister. I want a friendship with a woman who I can go to and confess my heart to, and they to me. I have my guy friends, but I want girl friends that aren't my mom (she's great, but she's my mom).

Being alone does make it "safer," but it doesn't heal anything in my heart. I feel a bit silly for what I'm about to type, but I am tired of "chasing" these girls. Seriously. I actually giggle at this because it makes me sound like I'm trying to "woo" them. Maybe, in a sense, I am. I want them to know I want to be their friends. I have reached out to them so many times that I am tired of only seeing the void. All attempts have ceased on my part. I am a human being. I am tired of pursuing a friendship with individuals (this time I am referring to both man and woman) who don't see the need for me in their lives. Why not add another person in your life? What's the harm in connecting one more time? I am ready for that risk. God knows it, but it's hard to keep my heart in this when I feel little enthusiasm for it anymore. I am tired, my heart is tired and I keep thinking back to the crummy times.

I am telling ya... Women are seriously complicated. That's why I act the way I do towards them. Hostile, because I don't trust their intentions. But I have to let someone in my life, don't I? Being a bitch to any person (man or woman) isn't going to nail me a friendship with them. I realize I need to change. I can't be like the girls and women that have abused me over the years. Just because I realized I am capable of hurting another person doesn't mean I have to act on it. God, I pray You can forgive me for the wrongs I have committed and sometimes continue to commit, well after realizing it. My heart is tired, but You know me. I am trying.

I'm sorry.

Before we begin. A summary.

I haven't written anything about the goings on with my life since the day (of or after?) I quit my internship with that horrible person. I was actually beginning to feel the symptoms of feeling nothing but incredibly worthless. Whatever I had to say, I couldn't say it. Or I believed I didn't have the right to say it. What right do I have to complain about the loss of an internship I quit? I complained (I wish I could say that I prayed or asked for a job, but really I complained because that's already how low I felt) for months about not getting any work and the chance I do, I quit. And why is that, Gaby? All because I believe I (nor should anyone else for that matter) shouldn't be pressed down (and I mean literally "pressed down" as if someone is pushing down on my shoulders to the ground kind of pressed down) to such low feelings. I felt worthless. There are no other words for me to choose from to describe it. Now, I don't want to whine about my unemployed life for this entire post, but I do want to say a few things about this debacle before I write about what's really been on my heart and mind.

I haven't cashed or deposited the $50 check the man "bestowed" (air quotations) me for my 60 plus hours of work. At first I thought, "Well... I guess money is money. I'll go to my bank and deposit it." Then I broke some bones in my toe (which was a ridiculous ordeal that is all my fault due to my idiocy), this prevented me from ever getting to my bank because I couldn't drive myself (right foot) anywhere for weeks. The man emails me (maybe a week and a half after we last spoke) and asks if the check was good or not and if he should meet up with me to pay me cash. That email just made me feel worse. Please be aware that I didn't want to write about this, but it's a contributing factor to why I'm feeling so low right now. I felt like this person I worked for just thought of me as a line on his checklist to get rid of. I wasn't fulfilling the "check off" for him on that list. I decided I wouldn't accept his money because I don't think I've earned it. I definitely believe I should have earned more than fifty bucks for all my work, but I haven't earned his money of failure. That check physically locks my body each time I see it, let alone touch it. It represents failure, pity, and so much negativity that experience and man left me with that I have refused to do anything about it. I refuse to have it in my life. So the check is relaxing in my notebook, dying of its worth. That man doesn't know my decision, but I'm sure he has figured it out by now that I do not want his money. I don't want anything more to do with that man or that experience.

I realize I sound a bit of an idiot for writing that. I don't think I wrote wrongly of the man I couldn't continue working with. But the feeling, everything about that situation, still hurts me. I can't accept money that carries such a negative weight and simply bring that mess deeper into my life. I realize my current situation; I am a broke 23 year old college graduate, but I couldn't break my heart or my soul with that man's money. Not many will understand why I feel this way about this, but I hope you'll support my decision either way. Maybe, I am foolish, but to me money isn't money.

Internship over, let's not talk about it.

I am reluctant to write this out to the blog-internet world. Solely for the reasons that there will be readers (friends, family, strangers, future employers) who will read this and possibly think wrongly of me. I do want to write this because I made a private, personal commitment that I would continue writing in this blog about the goings-on in my life. Unfortunately, I am torn on whether or not I wish to write the following of my day and past few weeks of my shortly employed life. Here goes nothing...

I began working as a contract design intern for a publication in late August of this year (I will not name which one it is, but those who know me actually know which publication I'm referring to). I had this gut feeling my stomach that, although, I wanted to work for this publication, I did not want to work for their initial offer of working for free (I'm paying my loans, I need money, too). But I decided that they will see my hard work and passion in everything I do that after the proposed three month period I would be offered a job where I'd actually be paid for my work. Wrong. If only I knew what was to await me days after signing on.

I will spare you all the details of my frustration of the hectic beginnings of my new employment, but I will say this: what did happen shouldn't have been handled the way it was.

Before I continue on, I want to say something about my personal thoughts of internships. I am not overly fond of the idea of doing work for free, but the idea of doing work for a small fee isn't such a bad thought (especially when you're still starting out). I am still torn about unpaid internships, but I am open to them, depending on the proposal. Still, I thought they would be like how my first official internship was. I was so blessed with that internship. I was introduced to people who didn't think of me as a student or an inexperienced individual. They saw me as their equal, they listened to me, and I listened to them. Of course there were times where there was miscommunication on both ends, but there was respect for one another; there was this belief and support we all had for one another. Man, looking back at it, it was like a dream. The most beautiful experience ever. I learned so much for my first internship. I miss the people I worked with, particularly my Boss Lady who had so much faith in me and my work that I felt such confidence in everything I worked on for them.

I carried this image with me. I carried the image that work would be enjoyable, like my internship. That there wasn't a hierarchy system, but a small family who saw each other as one another's equal. Now, I'm not saying my first internship was a perfect one. There were days where there was definite frustration and stress for the work we did, but we still got through it. The atmosphere in that department was so comfortable for me. I was sad when it was time for me to leave. But I did have to leave it so that I may enter the official "I'm an adult, time to find work" workforce. And I had this fantasy that there would be other places where I'd work with people who thought of themselves like a team, like a family. No place I have applied to since I've graduated has radiated that feeling.

So, I understand that we won't always be lucky. That it's almost impossible for us to struck gold twice, but I thought I could get close to it. For some reason I thought that with my new internship. I was wrong. I was not lucky. I was able to work from home, but I felt a resentment growing within me. I did my work, to the best of my abilities (and it turns out I'm actually not a bad designer and that it felt so natural to me to be working with design again), but there was a hostility developing between me and my employer.

And to those who know me, you know that I can be a sweet person, but I can be a very emotional (unfortunately I still need to learn to control that) and passionate person when angry. I was angry. I was angry because after my 50 hours of hard work I was treated as insignificant. As if everything I designed wasn't valid. I developed a beautiful structure, but it was covered with dry wall and insulation. I was pushed aside. At first, I was hurt, but eventually I talked myself out of that hurt and moved forward. "This is how internships work in different places. You're not there yet, Gaby," is what I played over and over in my mind; thoughts that came to me from my own voice to remind myself of my place in this system. Is that it? Am I really no one to this publication? I felt creatively restrained. As if a steel net was pining me down to the mud and every time I tried to rise up my back would bleed.

That is how I felt during the conversation with my employer. We met to discuss their evaluation of me. I made creative opinions (and I actually delivered them in a calmly fashion- which is a first for me since I can come off rudely, but this was polite for me. A bit blunt, but polite) and this person did not want to hear it. They did not want to hear the improvements to better their publication as a visual piece. I began thinking, "Why ask for my opinion if you don't wish to hear it?" It actually reminded me of college when I would get my critiques. Sometimes I didn't like them, but they did improve my artwork.

This person told me that I was at the bottom of their regard to creative opinion. Yes. This person actually said, "There's me, this person, that person, and all the way at the bottom is you." My opinion isn't valid because I am an intern. I felt insulted because of this. I know I am an intern, but I am also a creative individual, working to help them grow creatively. I want what I work on to be the best it can be. I've given creative input in my previous internship, and it was welcomed, and sometimes it was appreciated, but there were collaborations of creative opinions. Everything became successfully and beautifully made. I wanted to do the same for my current internship.

Unfortunately, this person did not listen to me. Nor would they let me speak. I breathed to calm myself because I felt so angry. I felt so little to that person. I felt as if I was chained in a cold, bleak dungeon, left alone but in range of hearing the wrongs I've committed to be locked up. I listened to this person, I saw their point of view, I acknowledged this. Still, I wasn't heard. I voiced my concerns, I voiced my opinion. It was as if it was all invalid. As if I had no right to feel the way I felt. I didn't feel safe for that moment.

Thankfully, my other brother (not Daniel, but Damon) was there to offer support (I asked if he'd come). I didn't ask him to defend me against my ex-employer, I didn't ask to be my voice when I could not speak (because there were moments when I couldn't). But I felt safer with his being there. I felt that security because I know God brings people in our lives who will always be there for us. And it was through my brother Damon that I was reminded that God was with me too. And that they would not leave me. I felt as if I had the majority of my family with me. My Father and my other brother and I had their love and support. Immediately I felt secure and a bit stronger.

I told this person I could not continue to work with them because I do not wish to be a part of something that does not work as a team, that doesn't see that I am significant with the work I do there. I know I'll always be the "lowest of the low" with whatever future job I get. I know there be times where I am in no place to have authority. But what I do know is that there will be times where I am a part of a team, part of a group of people who value my creative opinion and my actual presence. There will be people who do not see me as a someone who has to only fulfill a certain job. I will one day be a part of something where I am of value. I am of value to my Father, to my family, to my close friends, and I know the time will come when my work life will see the same.

I, of course, haven't told you the whole conversation I had with this person. I will (shamefully) say that I did lose my cool, but I never yelled. I will say that the individual also spoke harshly to me when I tried to get them to understand and listen to me. And I will say that I heard their opinion and I get it, but I do not condone the fact that they disrespected me because they thought they could because of my lack of experience.

I feel horrible for ending my contract with this person, but, thankfully, they gave me a way out and I have finished my work with them. I earned an offensive, small fee and I feel relieved but like a failure. I did not cry during this meeting with this person, I saved my tears afterwards. And now, I feel a bit numb to it. But, I feel that God is with me and only He knows what is right for me. Like Scarlett O'Hara said after admitting defeat when Rhett Butler leaves her, "After all! Tomorrow is another day!"

A little side note: I did not write this to gain your sympathy or to receive your anger. I did not write this so that you hate the person who injured me today or that you become upset with me for ending my employment. I wrote this because I believe other college graduates experience something like this or will experience something like this. I wrote this because I know there will be times where we feel lost because we've been let down by the people we thought we could trust. But I also wrote this as a reminder that there are people who will welcome you and the work you do. You are of value. I am, too.

Reminder to my Inexperienced Self: Don't take it personal.

I don't know about you, but I have been having the most difficult time not taking things so personal. Every time I feel angry, upset, or displaying some kind of emotion where I don't agree with what's gone down, someone will say to me, "Don't take it personal."

And I'm not going to lie to you, but whenever someone tells me that, I literally want to punch them in the face.

Don't take it personal? A friend just told me, "If you're not taking it personal then you aren't really committing to it." That is my thought process when it comes to situations like these. I get emotional and I do take it personal (maybe too personal and too emotional, but come on). I don't just create art or designs for people all willy nilly, without any sort of feeling or committless dedication. I'm not the kind of person who's mute when I'm doing a job. I show agitation, happiness, joy, anger, a whole range of emotions when I'm working on whatever because I have to care what I'm working on or else it won't come out remotely good. That's just me, though (but maybe my one friend gets it).

I haven't learned how to separate myself from a Gaby who feels everything from the Gabriela that's doing the work. I combine my personalities into one when I'm working, because I can't do without the other. I can't be the artist that I am without taking a part of me to the other me. I don't know how to not be one without the other. I am a human being who creates art and who feels a full spectrum of emotion while doing it.

I am currently reading The Godfather by Mario Puzo and the characters of the Corleone family repeatedly say/think, "It's business. It's not personal." I, myself, am repeating this sentence in my mind because I have to remember that whatever a person will say about my work, it's nothing against me personally (even they will have the nerve to tell me, "This isn't anything against you, but..."). But this is where I falter: How can I not take it personally when a piece of me is in the work I do? There is the smallest bit of me in whatever I've worked on, and when someone says they didn't like this or that it'll feel like they didn't like this or that about me. It sort of kills me that no one understands this about me. Which will lead me to feeling ridiculous for being bummed out by what someone said because I know I shouldn't. I should be professional and move on from their words or corrections to my work, but I can't.

I have an internship with a magazine where I have designed the whole layout for this month's issue (it's a new internship). I had a week to complete the design and I successfully completed the entire 12 pages before deadline to mine and my editor's satisfaction (and also his surprise, I'm assuming). I poured my entire being into this because it meant so much to me that my work will be recognized (finally!). Of course, I anticipated that I would have to make some changes to my own work when I sat down with my editor (which I did and I was still pleased with what got accomplished), but I didn't think of what the consulting designer would say of my work (let alone what she'd alter).

Earlier today I saw the final design of the issue, and, although the blueprint of my designs are still there, it isn't my work anymore. It doesn't feel like I belong to it. To convey the words of what I felt, of what I continue to feel, would be a feeling of detachment from a project I've (probably and unnecessarily) stressed over. I care for this publication. Not just because I am a contributing artist to it, but because it stands for something positive. I was working on something positive and my work doesn't feel positive, to me. I feel insulted. I feel pushed back because, although, there's the faintest hint of me in the design, it isn't me.

So yes, I am taking it personal and I don't know how to stop feeling this way.
How can I be an artist (an artist who'll bring herself, and all of her emotion) and not feel or care? Maybe I should stop caring what others think. But, like I said, I don't know how to know how to just suddenly turn it off. This bothers me, so much, because (and I am aware) there will always be people you can't please and there are times where I actually won't care what a person's opinion is of something I've created, but there are times (like this one for instance) where I care, where I am taking it personal. In this case, someone has altered my work. I'm taking it personal, I am hurt. And this is my conflict about the whole situation: I am doing work for them, it is ultimately their voice they want expressed. Maybe I didn't meet it.

I feel too much.

Length of Happiness is up to you

Right now I'm staring at my ceiling fan. I see I need to dust it the edges of the blades from the accumulated dust of summer. I don't want it to sprinkle onto me in the middle of the night when I turn it on again. Maybe I'll do it in a little bit.

I am thinking about those moments of happiness, those blissful moments given to us by God and how badly I want to hold onto it. But wanting to hold onto it means we aren't enjoying it fully since we're worried about the loss of it. If we wait to lose it, then we'll definitely lose it. This reminds me of something my brother told me a while ago when I was talking about how heartbroken I'll be when the day comes when my Papa Chepe is no longer with us, "If you keep worrying about that, then you'll never enjoy the days you do have with him." (I swear to you, my brother never ceases to amaze me)

God wants us to enjoy those moments of happiness, doesn't He? As it says in Zephaniah chapter 3 verse 17, "he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with loud singing." When we are glad, God is glad. We are singing, dancing, rejoicing (or doing whatever else we do) in those moments of happiness. Admit it, we're quite the goofy bunch when we're undefinably happy (or at least I am - and my mom), don't worry about how long it'll last or when it'll be taken from you. I want to say "shame on me" for not allowing myself to be happy. It is something I've been struggling with for years because for years the enemy (who disguised himself as an alternate me) has been sneaking into my thoughts lies, telling me I didn't deserve to be happy or he'd take it away from as quick as it came. I know it in my heart, though, that God wants me to be happy. He quiets my mind, leaving me feeling light, weightless, no stress on in my body. Enjoying the joy, thankful for it, that's what He wants.

Yesterday I was recovering from a medical procedure my doctor felt I should have for my insides (because it's not a five star functioning system) and I received an email from the person I met with last week for an opportunity for a graphic design internship. I can't explain what it was that drew me to this, but I prayed to God that if this is right, if this is what He knows is best for me then I will commit myself to working hard for it. And lo, I was offered a 3 month internship. I'm still happy, squealing, and gushing over it, I'm bathing in that happiness. It is a quiet stillness that covers itself over my body.

Think about it: When you're happy, you deserve it. 

The much anticipated goodbye.

Anyone who's known me for some time may be aware of the fact that for more than six years I've been mourning (at a snails pace) and letting go the final threads of my last serious relationship. I'm not particularly fond of bringing this up but it's a thought that continued to sneak into my current happy thoughts (a thought I know God wishes me to move on from). So, let's do this.

I have given so much power to the entity that was my dysfunctional relationship, that I didn't know who I was anymore without having some form of it in my life. And I'm not going to get into the juicy details of our relationship, but when it was over, when he barely spoke to me, I still gave him my happiness. I committed everything I believed was left of the good and love in me to that ideal image of a happily ever after with that person. I was purposely punishing myself for our relationship's collapse. Thankfully (for me), it wasn't too long ago that I decided (with the help of God holding my hand) that it was time to close this ridiculous collection of chapters and pages of our relationship to its resting place.

After spending this year on my own heart, becoming reacquainted with myself again and falling in love with an almighty God, I know what it means to be loved by Someone who is so great in comparison to what our relationship could have ever offered me. When you receive a teaspoon of that love you know you deserve something better.

I was telling my mom this afternoon, as we were driving to treat ourselves to new accessories, that it was time for me to end this. I haven't spoken with my ex-boyfriend in over three years, and I haven't seen him in two (I spotted him at a concert, which was bound to happen since we have similar tastes in music). I have allowed myself the distance needed for my heart to fully repair itself. I told my mom I know I loved him and that our relationship means so much to me, but it doesn't have to define me anymore.

I have forgiven myself for many of the wrongs I committed towards him (and so many of them were done out of spite and jealousy). I am slowly forgiving him for some of his, which has been difficult. I know I can't forget the cruelty he's done to me purposely, but I can't let his presence linger anymore. It's a weight on my body that I don't need. I wish I could say I have erased him from my memory, like in the film Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, (if only) but it happened and I learned, grew, and came out of it stronger than I was before. I am actually grateful that our relationship happened. It could have been different, but this experience awoken me to a love I know is out there for me.

I can't explain it, but I felt God's presence a while ago. It was my own voice, but it was a whisper. So gentle and sweet, the whisper said to me, "You are loved. I love you. I am here for you, right beside you. You are ready to let go of this pain." I cried as this voice reassured me of a great love that is out there for me. I am loved by my family, by my close friends, and by my Heavenly Father. It felt this love and I knew it was time.

I may never get the closure I think I "deserve" from enduring this hardship, but when God whispered to me, I knew I got my closure. He said it is finished, and it is.

So, I am saying goodbye to my relationship, to any remaining negativity (on my part) with my ex. I am happy I do not feel jealousy knowing he has moved on in his love life. I do not know where he is in his life, personally, but I pray he has found contentment. This isn't to say I won't think of him (after all, he was my first love), but I will no longer give him power over me. I am ready to seek love, to feel love, to be with others without feeling held back. It's with confidence that I write this, no more regret or hesitation thinking that he could come back. I have felt God's love, and He wishes me to experience a love He has created for me without the past dragging me with it.

I made the decision three years ago to end all communication with my ex after being dragged along as nothing for three years after our break up. I began my healing by making the choice that I deserve better. I know I wrote in a previous post that I need to humble myself, but in this instance (and with a nudge from God), I deserve a love that'll fill me up rather than tear me down. And I am so unbelievably, geekily, happily ready to start this next journey of my life with a ready heart.

Necessary Humble Challenge

It was a while ago, but I remember having a discussion with my brother about thoughts (or people and the unbelievably crummy situations I've dealt with) that'll reoccur in my mind. I would sometimes think of a person's face and recollect all the good and bad experiences I've shared with them and literally go from mourning the loss of that friendship to growing angry, hating them for abandoning me. I asked my brother what he thinks it could mean that I continue having these thoughts. 

He said, without making eye contact with me, "When I have those thoughts, it's probably because I have to deal with it."
"Do you think it's God urging us to face that?" I would ask after taking time to process what he said.
"Probably," he'd conclude. Then he'd continue his routine on his tablet, still not breaking his focus on what he's scrolling through. I knew he was listening. My brother always listens, even when I think he's not (unless he's texting, because he's like a Yoda in the texting universe; both knowledgable and wise, as well as entertaining when he says words).

I have no doubt that God wants me to face this problem that'll revisit my mind, but I don't know how to go about doing that, sometimes. The situation won't always be the same, either. One thought could be of a person and my current or former relationship with them, or a length of time in my "younger years," or of a reparation that needs to occur in my heart. And I'm beginning to think that God is challenging me after each emotional thought I tackle, because the load doesn't feel lighter. It's intense and heavy, but a necessary weight to remove from my body so that I can breathe, straighten up, and continue moving forward.

I am challenged now. It's not about a person or former dilemma (although, I will occasionally think back to an event that really altered my life), I am allowing myself to dislike myself. And I don't mean to imply that I dislike the physical appearance of me (this is how my face looks, this is how my body looks), as most of us ladies do, I mean I don't like how I showcase the real me. I've been told, and reminded, that I can be an arrogant person. I didn't want to believe it, but a few days ago I realized I am truly an arrogant person. I have mistaken arrogance for ambition. I thought thinking that I deserve this and this in life (i.e. degree, success, job, job, job, position in life, job) that I would get it. I mainly thought this way because I felt that I worked my ass off to graduate with honors, that I accomplished so many of my goals that I would be rewarded. Life doesn't work this way.

I've been going about my job search all wrong. I would apply for jobs I know I could perform. I was cocky, carrying a smug attitude when going about an application. My mom reminded me (and I really didn't like hearing this from her, especially since I thought mom's should be more supportive than critical) that I need to humble myself because I can be and have been arrogant in my job search. I didn't allow myself to fully digest my mother's words, but the coppery aftertaste remained. 

After a job meeting I had a few days ago I remembered what my mom said to me months prior. My arrogance transferred to the design of my resumé. It was a reflection of me. I worked hard on designing on that for jobs and this person was straight up honest with me. Not holding back at all.

"You have thirty seconds to impress someone with a resumé and I wasn't that impressed," they said after scanning through the neatly folded paper.

I didn't go meet with that person to be torn apart (because, man, did she let me have it with the design of my resumé), I went to meet for a job opportunity. The meeting went well, and I struggled staying face afterwards (unfortunately, I express myself with my face before I can with my words), but I remembered what my mom said to me as I drove home. "You are not a humble person, mi hija." It was then I realized I have no idea what it means to be humble. I don't even think I know what the word honestly means (humble. adjective: not proud or arrogant; modest). Modest? When could I be modest? Where do I even begin?

My grandpa told me, one day after we were blessed with the opportunity to see each other face-to-face on Skype (first time seeing him since I was seven years old- I'll probably talk about this at another time), that he thinks I was very humble when I spoke to him. I told this new revelation to my brother and he said, "sometimes you can be" and continued doing what he was doing (not making eye contact, again). I feel like I'm the real me when I'm speaking with my grandpa. There are no expectations when I speak with him (maybe improving my Spanish, but that's it), I don't have to worry about impressing him, because he already likes talking to me. The hard part is over, just being real is all I have left to do. I don't talk to my grandpa every day, so it is true that sometimes I can be humble. Is it  only when I'm relaxed and comfortable with someone that I'm capable of being humble? How do I humble myself when I'm looking for a job? How do I humble myself when I'm with others? How do I humble myself in real life?

I have acknowledged that I am an arrogant person. I cried after that meeting to my brother, confessing to him that I don't like this factoid about myself. I don't like that I didn't know I was being this arrogant person. I don't like how it's now plaguing my thoughts more than any other. I don't like that I'm recognizing this in myself, but the whole point of having all this time to myself is to discover the truths of my life. Even the nasty ones that no one will look forward to know when getting to know me. So, this is my new challenge for this thought that is creeping on me: You will turn this around and pray for your arrogance to diminish. But you're not going to just sit back and only pray for it happen, you're going to make it happen. You know you're arrogant. What are you going to do about it? Challenge (really, pray and work) myself to becoming the better, truer version of myself.

Who I am to my family

One of my many constant thoughts, a thought that has been going neck and neck ahead of all the other thoughts that have been seizing me this past year, is that I don't know where I stand in regards to my family.

I am a sister and daughter, a granddaughter (to my one and only grandpa, Papa Chepe, who I consider to be my other father), as well as niece and cousin. The list could go on because my family is extensive. However, as I've gotten older I realize although we share an ancestry, I don't feel a connection to the majority of my family. 

I don't make much of an effort, anymore, to get to know the rest of my family. As reluctant as I am to write this, I know it to be helpful to express it (at least, it does to me). After completing college to being in this sort of limbo, not knowing what or when my next job could be, I had time to think of my family. Who I am to them and who they are to me. 

Traditionally, the majority of us grow up with the image that family is our blood relations. Your mom's and dad's siblings and their families are your family. There is truth in this but I know for a fact that family is also the friendships we make, the ones we want to hold onto. 

Last week I got together with a friend, who's also friend's with my brother (my brother was present when this conversation took place), and we talked about family. My friend Damon told me he thinks family doesn't stop at just blood ties, but expands to the meaningful relationships we've develop over time. We are born into families and we grow into families. I agree with this thought. If we think about it, we are all children of God, therefore we are all related (that's if you think of the larger image here).

I feel the size of my family has grown, in meaningfulness, as well as it shrunk in numbers (in regards to my blood tied family members), unfortunately. I believe we are part of two sets of families: the one we're born into and the family we make as we grow older into our own identities. I have family who have known me since I was born, friends who've known me since a young age, I've finally accepted the hard truth that they don't really know me. This is all okay with me now (though still sad), because I know who I've become. I am not just my brother's sister or my parent's daughter; I'm a person with my own sets of beliefs, values, likes/dislikes, and many other beautiful, complicated things that make me who I am. Thankfully, I've become part of a family who has accepted me wholeheartedly (at least, I'm pretty sure they do).

This all means so much to me, family matters. For years I was feeling neglected, left alone by my own family (this could also be my own fault since I've stopped reaching out to them, along with caring to). I don't think they, or I (this is debatable) mean to do it on purpose, to go on with their lives without me in it (or me in theirs), but we drift apart. None of this is ever intentional, I'm sure, I don't think we just stop caring for one another, but life goes on whether we like it or not. Becoming our own persons from who we were in childhood and teen years shaped who we were as our families children. Transferring that into who we've grown into as adults is something to think about.

The close friendships I've developed, the vulnerability I've allowed for myself, even if it's just temporary, to experience and open doors for these new people to enter my life has really affected me. I may not be able to see all of my blood-related family as often as I wish (the very large number of them), but I have a nice, small, intimate family of friends who have welcomed me into their lives. It isn't obligation anymore because of blood ties or forced politeness, but acceptance of the heart. A connection with others; a deeper, meaningful relationship forming with these individuals who want to get to know me, who know me better than those who've known me longest. I am beginning to feel like I have a family, finally. I mourn the family that I don't know so well anymore (or understand for that matter, at times I question them), but I raise my arms in joy of the family who have granted me the privilege and honor of getting to know them, strengthening our friendship.

It's a sad thought, but a beautiful realization of truth.

I say this: Time.

Who said just because you don't have a job you can't enjoy your life? Why is this thought put in our heads that our life doesn't actually begin until we start our careers? Yes, it'd be ideal to have a career and know what my tomorrow's will look like, but I don't necessarily think that a job defines who I am.

So, I say this: Just because you don't have a job right now, doesn't mean that you're not a nobody or that your life isn't significant, yet (and whoever made you feel like this is a liar). You're actually becoming the better you, if you take the time to think about it, that's a pretty sweet deal. Having all this time to myself has actually helped me in discovering the things that make me happy. I was on the phone with my grandpa tonight and he was telling me that I am a girl of many talents (this conversation was entirely in Spanish, something I couldn't accomplish a year and a half ago). Papa Chepe (that's what I call my grandpa) was explaining to me that I will continue to "roll out" new details about myself, exploring more of what I can do. I thought, "Hell yeah! That's what I'm talking about. This is basically sums up what I've been feeling about this past year of joblessness." Could this man be more wonderful?

That isn't to say I don't have my moments of unhappiness. There are times I will feel like a failure when I receive the emails or phone calls from a job I applied for, with hopes of being hired, that I am not what they are looking for in a candidate. It can be draining, infuriating, and disappointing (trust me, you are not alone in this). I know these feelings all too well. Committing time to job hunting is essential to finding a job, yes, but I don't think I have to job hunt eight hours a day (job hunting will feel like a job in itself after a while, though – you just won't get paid for it). I now commit to two to three hours of job hunting, three days a week, max now. There are other hours in the days, other days in the week, to do things that are good for you.

Example: I may not always go out taking photos (or "capturing moments" as so many of my friends put it), but I spend more time taking photos of what awakens the artistic-moment-sharing self in me. I'm not rushed. I haven't read a countless list of books, but I read what pleases me, what feeds my hunger for character discovery. I have watched more films, jotted or sketched out ideas. I have spent more time getting to know what I like than I have in the fourteen years of schooling. School has contributed a bit to my likes and dislikes, but with all this time, without any worry of deadlines or what classes to schedule next semester, I realized there are so many things I love that I can't even put it into words. I feel the joy.

Now, I am about to go into detail of what has helped me realize why I deserve to be happy (the keyword being: deserve). The most important joy I've felt this past year is my relationship with God. I spent my senior year of college away from God on purpose. I was driven to finish my last year with good grades and 100% commitment to school. I accomplished my academic goals, but I was never fully satisfied. That is because my soul knew that I needed more than just these earthly things to define who I am. I needed God. I spent so much time praying, talking, apologizing, crying to God. I got to know who He is again and I have spent this time strengthening my bond to Him. I have felt that by spending this year with not only with discovering myself, but with God, I feel more fulfilled. My journey isn't over yet, though, I continue to grow and learn.

I am bettering myself, day-by-day, because I know God doesn't want me to walk into a job as the broken person I once was. He has been preparing me, healing me, bringing to light what He wishes for me to do. I have faith in this. That's what this year of self-discovery as a post-grad has granted me. Time. Taking time for myself, finding out what I love, learning to be happy and not miserable all the time just because I haven't found that job for me yet. Spending time with people I love, people who matter and love me back as I love them. It is important for your soul to take part in what makes you happy (at least what I believe to be important). And I strongly feel that God doesn't want His children, His works of art He created (think about it, we are His works of art), to feel like they are nothing; we deserve complete joy because He made us His beautiful masterpieces. Just remember that those moments of crumminess, they won't last forever (something I continue to tell myself every day), it's all about the joy. Even if your belief in God is different than mine, you can't deny that doing what makes you laugh isn't one of the best feelings in the world (unless working makes you happy, in which case, this is totally irrelevant to you).

To make a long story short: TREAT YOURSELF TO HAPPINESS!

Revelation About Myself: Prelude

I'm not quite sure what appropriate words I could use to formulate sentences with this next entry. Do I want to be poetic or honest? It's really my brother who has a way with words in the family, I'm just fumbling along. I know what I feel, just not how to explain.

Perhaps I could elaborate on what it is I feel. It has come to my attention that I have been, possibly always will be, a person who feels everything at once. I am an emotional absorbent sponge. My mind is constantly racing, thinking back to how I felt four years ago, last week, or how I'll feel in twelve days. I am all over the place. At times I don't consider this to be too much of a bad thing, but it can get me into trouble.

I am one of those people who refuses to forget any good thing that comes my way, as well as any wrong done to me. Forgive and forget comes to mind, but I don't live by that saying. I am the master of holding a grudge. I find it impossible to forgive people (it's an annoying feature of mine, but I can't forgive someone when they've injured my heart. But I will forgive someone for taking advantage of me for a class or favor. Repeatedly! Messed up, isn't it?). How does that even work? Why is my personality like this? This horrible part of me has surfaced more this past year and I don't like how it's actually taken hold of my sweetness (believe it or not, but I can still be a sweet person to someone).

Let me paint a picture for you: I used to be (and still can be) a bubbly-gooey-always-ready-for-a-hug-fun-loving kind of person. If we're going to be honest here, I love people, truthfully. I find people attractive. I love watching their mannerisms, the way they'll laugh after I've told a joke, even the way their faces crease when they're feeling any kind of emotion. I'm a studier. I study people. I have been studying people for as long as I could remember and that has aided me when it comes to making friends. I see what makes a person happy, therefore I want to make them happy. I'm a people pleaser.

Unfortunately that hasn't always been my greatest feature because once someone sees past my rough exterior (and I really can be a hard person to get to know if I'm in that kind of mood) they will use me to their hearts content. I never see this happening until I'm in the middle of doing something ridiculous to help that person. Why do I do this? Not only do I strive to please my friends, I am an extremely gullible person. I will believe everything you tell me because I have fallen in love with you (not love-love, but I love you deeply as a friend) and I want to believe in the best part of you. Doing whatever I can to help you is what I do when I enter a friendship with someone. You know what, someone should slap me in the face, because I'm stupid.

For years I have put my trust in the wrong people that I don't even want to try anymore. Loving people hurts, especially when they've dried you up and tossed you aside. I'm a lonely raisin. I could go on about this forever, but I've decided I'll discuss this more at a later post (possibly, I'm reluctant about this). Trust me when I say this: I need to learn to say "no" to people who don't actually love me. I'm learning. Hopefully. I don't want to be someone who gets taken advantage of. I don't consider my desire to help others as a flaw, but it's become my kryptonite.

Writing this, of course, has made me angry. I feel that because I feel everything I won't allow myself to experience the joy friendships bring to an individual. Being alone is easy but it's always quiet. I have no problem in loving myself, getting to know who I am and what I like, but I do miss sharing these thoughts with someone. I said I'm a person who feels everything, well I refuse to feel anything towards people. I have successfully built a "bitch please, leave me alone" double concrete walls around myself, just so nobody can hurt me again. Learning to appreciate myself this past year is awesome, but watching myself purposely pushing people away hasn't been all too fun. I let the wrong people in and damage my foundations, and as I'm trying to rebuild all the damage that's been done and the right kind of people want to get to me, I close the door.

Having this year to reflect on the wrongs I've committed and continue to commit opened my eyes that I need to accept the fact that people will hurt you, but a friendship can be a beautiful thing to have if I let it happen. I don't think I would have discovered this about myself if I hadn't had so much time to myself. I wish I was working, yes, but no repair can happen on my heart and body if I just jumped from college to working. I'd know the problem was there, but I'd be too busy to face it dead-on.

Think about it. If you didn't have to worry about work, payments, school, and actually took time, and I mean real time, for yourself you might actually realize that those problem you've been avoiding, allowing to build up for years, is actually eating away at you. Who has time to try and dig to the root of the problem? Well, I have had time. I want to control all the emotions I'm feeling and become this individual who loves herself and people. I know I said I love people, and I do, but I can hate them, too (rather strongly, also). I want to change.

Remember what you wanted to be when you grew up?

We used to paint these mental images of who we were going to be when we grew up. The picture we created as children of what our adult lives could turn into. I imagined I'd be married after graduating college, becoming a teacher, and living in a nice house, eating only hashbrown and spaghetti. That did not happen.

I realized I do not have the patience to deal with children or teenagers, so I did want to teach. I also have not married anyone either because my last serious relationship ended in the middle of college. It was unnecessarily difficult. Suffocating me, keeping me caged (caged bird, get it?). I don't want to be eating only hashbrown and spaghetti since my food palette has evolved since I was six years old, but I still want some kind of happy ending. I still daydream of the possibilities that could take place in my life. I'm only twenty-three, my life isn't over (although my ten year old self would think I was really old and be amazed that I still have no clue what to do with my life. I'm sorry ten year old self). It's just beginning, in fact.

I do find it a bit ridiculous that as we age from ten to twenty we have to start making real-life decisions for ourselves. You can no longer create bullet-point lists as to what you want to be in life like you did in grade school. You're being tested into career categories where you can apply your skills to a specific job area. Every choice you make defines you. It's silly. So if I am actually decent in biology I have to become a marine biologist? Or if I'm interested in art I could use that to become an architect. I'm not saying these are bad careers to get into, but the idea is silly to me. What if I like writing and sketching and marine biology? What if I enjoy reading books and watching movies, as well as studying politics? We have so many interests that create the individual in us but the universe seems to want to pull us from both sides and choose a specific course.

Since I have graduated college I still do not know what I want to do, specifically, with my life. I'm an artistic person, I express myself creatively, so the obvious choice was that I become a photographer full-time or graphic designer. I don't actually want to do be those things, though. I love photography. I have been photographing since I was fourteen and I have progressed as a photographer, photographing what I love. I capture moments and share them. Many people who know me love that I can capture a moment. There is feeling in my photos. As much as I love these compliments and joy photography brings me, I do not want to be a full-time photographer only. I love photographing, but I love writing as well. I enjoy writing short stories, creating characters, writing dialog, occasionally writing a few pages for a script. Should I be only a writer (not a bad idea, actually)? Then there is social media, which has become my greatest interest since I completed my studies (you think it'd be easier to find a job in social media, but it's actually quite competitive). Why are we forced to limit ourselves? Why can't we try to achieve everything? Better question: Why aren't we encouraged to want everything we want?

I want to continue photographing, designing, sketching, writing, reading, watching films, and exploring new social media formats. I don't want to stop one interest for another. Which is sad, really, because a few jobs I have interviewed for asked me, "Would you be willing to give up photography for this position?" Give up? Why do I have to give up something I am passionate about because this one job position doesn't involve in much photography? They saw it on my face that I wasn't going to (it's also unfair that they asked me this question because my face will immediately answer their question before my mouth does). I even told them that just because I'd be working there doesn't mean I'd stop photographing on the weekends or something. Maybe that's why they wouldn't give me the job. Corporate wanted me to give up one passion to focus solely on another. I love social media, but if I can't have photography then I know I wouldn't be able to fully be myself. It's like surrendering the largest chunk of my soul.

Remember when you were a kid and every other day you'd change your dream job from teacher to doctor to scientist to dancer to Hollywood movie star? Why do I have to change my passion of photography to only social media? I need art in my life. Art is in the photos I take, the films I watch, the characters I read about it. I can't just shut down one category of art to please or fulfill the function of a job position. This is possibly why no one will hire me because I do not want to do it. I can't help it. I want to keep everything in my life somehow (and it's a little absurd to ask if I'd be willing to give up something for a job. Does that person really think I could continue being creative if I just eliminate that from my life?).

I have encouraged myself to dream. I was practically a robot in college. I studied hard, went to all my classes, I was on time. I was the perfect student, in my mind. After receiving my degree and month after month of job searching I realized that I do not have to limit myself to what I got my degree in. I had a professor in college, he was an English professor, who probably didn't know it at the time, encouraged me to do whatever makes me happy. That I should do whatever makes me happy in life. I still do not know what I exactly want to be but I know what makes me happy. I love holding a DSLR, creating designs or being inspired by others creative works, writing nonsense, sketching lines, keeping up to date on the social networking, and watching movies I've been meaning to watch and finally getting around to. Not just one specialty makes me happy. I see no reason why I have to box in one happiness when I can have an infinite amount of joy from everything else.

Introduction

I have yet to figure out the scientific formula as to why whenever I listen to Daft Punk I always want to write something personal about my life and share it with the world so that they may judge me. For the past month Daft Punk just makes me want to spill my guts out to the world about my struggles, successes, pains, pleasures; other words that begin with S's and P's.

Here we are. Listening to "One More Time" as I type this introduction to whoever dares to read my musings. I'm sorry, I'm a bit of a goof and I tend to write how I feel as I feel it.

How do I feel about this? Well, I feel like this is the right thing to do right now. I have been unemployed for over a year. I have had two small job positions since I have graduated college in May 2012. As thankful as I am for those opportunities last year, I wish I were doing something more with my life. I find myself identifying my job position as Constant Job Seeker. It's exhausting. I am convinced writing cover letters is equivalent to giving away pieces of your soul.

I have written countless of cover letters to various job positions statewide, and nationwide. It gets more depressing as I write each letter. I have written in an enthusiastic format, hopelessly begging for the job position, to straight up pleading and reassuring the employer I would be a great addition to their team. I am literally prostituting myself to the masses. To the human resource department individual who probably snacks on a Butterfinger while laughing at my letter with their mouth full, crumbs flying everywhere. It is an embarrassing thing to do. It hurts.

Unfortunately it is something I have to accept. There will be and always have been other people out there who are more qualified for the job position than I am. What upsets me the most is that these are usually entry-level positions (positions that ask for five years of experience. Wasn't college enough experience?) and yet they do not want to give it to the ridiculously, job hungry college summa cum laude graduate. I pray for the opportunity to work, as well as wonder why they won't give me the chance. The more people that push me away, the more rejections, the more my self-esteem crumbles to becoming nothing but Butterfinger crumbs on a keyboard. I become nothing. My unemployment months expand to years to more unexperienced.

I am beginning to believe that employers enjoy tormenting graduates. I was a hard-working student in college. Busting my ass because I wasn't one of those students that wrote an 8 page paper two days before the due date. I didn't have the natural intelligence as other students did. I envy those people. They somehow have jobs. The bullshitters always succeed, remember that. Or, at least, it feels that way. I don't have anything against the bullshitters, they're great, but they are such good sweet talkers. I fumble during an interview. Perhaps I should have studied bullshitting in college. I missed something, didn't I?

After countless of thousands of dollars, I am here, writing this to you. Thinking of the loan I have to pay soon for my wonderful education, reminding myself to email someone again about a job, missing the classroom of a professor or two; sitting, becoming nothing, doing nothing: I am nothing.

Luckily, I am not nothing. I have had an interesting year of unemployment. Perhaps my skills are wasting away but I feel more alive than ever. I am awake to experiencing new things. This has actually been an exciting year for me. Despite the fact that I have no jobs offers or the fact that I feel dread whenever I look for jobs, I feel great about who I am. I have ideas of what I want to do with my life. Sometimes I want to go to grad school for writing or film (although I didn't do too well in my one film class, oops) or go travel and photograph. I want something more with my life. I am still mustering the courage to do so. I'll get there. It's a slow process, one I have loved watching myself growing from. This is exciting, isn't it?